


Gordon Martini

by trillian_jdc



Series: Mystrade Cocktails [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Greg is Sweet, M/M, Texting, mystrade, tapas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Greg brings Mycroft dinner after a long trip away to look after him.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade Cocktails [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759666
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97
Collections: Rupert Graves Birthday Collection 2020





	Gordon Martini

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavender_and_Vanilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/gifts).



Greg was beginning to believe that they were never going to have dinner. The day after their pub night, where they both seemed to have a great time, he'd waited until mid-morning, then texted Mycroft. 

**Greg:** How's the darts champion this morning?  
  
**Mycroft:** Tolerably well, thank you, Gregory. And yourself? -M  
  
**Greg:** Better than expected!  
  
**Greg:** Would this Saturday work for dinner?   
  
**Mycroft:** My apologies, but I have been called out of the country beginning tomorrow and do not have a return plan yet. -M

With anyone else, Greg would have thought this kind of response to be a ridiculous brush-off. With Mycroft, he was impressed that he was given that much information. 

**Greg:** Bugger. Hope the crisis resolves quickly.  
  
**Mycroft:** I also. -M  
  
**Greg:** If you can, let me know when you're back.

No answer came, which meant things might be moving more quickly than expected. Greg set those thoughts aside and went back to his paperwork. No point in worrying over things you couldn't change. He'd hope that Mycroft enjoyed his company enough to keep meeting, whenever the next opportunity came. And Greg was happy that someone so conscientious was working hard for the country, even if he worried whether Mycroft valued himself as much as his work. 

* * *

The next opportunity turned out to be Sunday evening. Greg had moped a bit over the weekend, but there was nothing unusual about spending his day off lazing about and doing a bit of tidying at home. 

Just as he was deciding to give up lying on the sofa in favor of lying in bed, his mobile pinged. 

**Mycroft:** Back. Exhausted. Apologies. -M

Mycroft must be tired if he couldn't form sentences, but at least he cared enough to keep Greg updated. Greg didn't want to push, but he suspected Mycroft wasn't telling him everything. 

**Greg:** All taken care of?  
  
**Mycroft:** Loose ends still. -M

Of course Mycroft would keep pushing on. He really didn't take enough time for himself. Which gave Greg an idea. 

**Greg:** Suspect you haven't eaten. Dinner?  
  
**Mycroft:** Waiting for update. -M

Brusque Mycroft was different, but Greg envisioned him sneaking a moment or two to text him while juggling communiques and keeping track of world-changing decisions. It made him feel valued. The least he could do was bring him a little comfort. Treat the man, not just the brain. 

**Greg:** I'll bring something. Which office?  
  
**Mycroft:** Club. -M

Mycroft wasn't arguing back or putting him off, so he must be at least curious. Greg might actually have a chance at surprising him. Again. 

He stopped at the fancy grocery and rustled together a small hamper of finger foods. Mycroft would likely be distracted, so non-fussy and reasonably healthy snacks would be best. Then at the Diogenes, he made his way through the halls and knocked lightly at Mycroft's door before entering. 

Mycroft was seated behind his desk. Upon Greg's appearance, he smiled tiredly in welcome. He looked a little rumpled, with his tie slightly loose and top shirt button undone. Greg had never seen him rumpled. It was both alluring and a bit disconcerting. Time for some reassurance. 

"Mycroft! Glad you're back. Don't mind me. I won't interfere. You do whatever you need, I'll set up on the coffee table." 

"Thank you, Gregory. You are a sight for sore eyes." Mycroft blinked slowly, giving literal underlining to the common phrase. "I am only waiting for confirmation, so I have time for a little sustenance." He walked around the desk to sit on the sofa. His descent was the tiniest bit unsteady. 

"Hope you enjoy my nibbles, then." Greg had set out a mini buffet of tapas-inspired small dishes: olives, spiced nuts, Manchego cheese, savory biscuits, small pieces of Serrano ham, cold marinated shrimp and artichokes. He handed Mycroft a plate and a fork. "Have as much or little as you can stand. Would a cocktail be ok?" 

"I shouldn't, but I could be tempted." 

While Mycroft selected a few items, Greg rummaged through the drinks cart, seeking inspiration. He came across the bottle of sherry required in any proper British liquor cabinet. What else would you offer to a visiting grandmother or a Cabinet Secretary who'd watched too much _Yes Minister_? 

"Oh, this Amontillado will go perfectly." 

"Sherry, Gregory? How traditional of you." 

"Not quite, Mycroft. Give me a few minutes." 

Greg shook up a martini using the sherry in place of vermouth and garnished it with a tiny skewer of cocktail onions. He placed one, in the traditional glass, on the table in front of Mycroft, next to the yet-untouched plate, while he took his and sat on the floor next to the food. Mycroft looked at him strangely. "Why are you on the floor?" 

"'s a picnic! I can reach better this way. Come join me!" 

"If I sit there, I fear I couldn't get up again." 

"I'll help you." Greg curled his fingers towards himself, making the "come here" gesture for Mycroft to join him.

Mycroft stared at him for a few minutes, then abruptly stood up, shucked his suit jacket, and gracefully folded down until he had his back against the sofa and his legs crossed under the table. "I do the strangest things with you." 

He seemed to be recovering himself a bit, Greg thought, looking less worn-out and more relaxed. A spark of contentment flared inside, as he took pleasure in being able to do that for Mycroft. 

Greg scootched himself over until they were shoulder to shoulder. He bumped his arm against his dining partner, then turned to face him. "Fun, isn't it?" He raised his glass and gestured for Mycroft to pick his up. "To well-deserved relaxation." 

They clinked rims, and then Mycroft looked more closely at his drink. He dipped his chin and looked at Greg from under his eyebrows. "You were trying to distract me, Gregory," he chided, "from noticing. I've told you how I feel about martinis." 

"'s just the two of us, Mycroft," Greg grins back. "You and your private bartender. You're already sitting on the floor, what's one more rule broken? No one's going to know."

He continued, "It's not a classic martini, it's a Gordon. With the sherry, which adds a slightly nutty flavor, to go with the food. Try a sip."

Greg suited the action to his words. "Mmm. Obscure and delicious. Reminds me of someone." He looked up over the rim at his drinking partner. 

Greg enjoyed bringing a little nonsense, particularly once Mycroft started smiling fuzzily back. "You are a marvel, Lestrade." He finally tried the cocktail. "Tasty, as you said. Thank you. This," as he nodded at the food, "is more than I could have hoped for after a late arrival." 

"We said we'd have dinner, although not sure this counts. But I wanted to see you, and you should take better care of yourself." After another sip, he set the drink aside and reached for the other plate to start his own supper. "You sure I'm not keeping you from something important?" 

"As you ascertained, I was overdue for refueling. So long as I can still answer the phone when it rings, we're fine." Mycroft moved his plate closer and started trying the items on it. "Oh, this shellfish is excellent!" 

"Or you're so tired it's all amazing." Greg grinned. "Either way. In different circumstances, I would have made some hot dishes. Lamb meatballs. Patatas bravas. Here, try the cheese." He held out a biscuit with a slice on top. Mycroft paused, then leaned forward to let himself be fed. 

"Mmmmm, yes," he responded, once he'd chewed and swallowed. "This is taking me back to a lovely little place in Ibiza." Mycroft's eyes went a little unfocused. "On the beach, the most amazing flavors in a wide variety of dishes... and the scenery! The coastline, in front of which promenaded an astounding array of gorgeous men in very little clothing." 

Greg nearly choked on an almond. He coughed, swallowed, and goggled at Mycroft. "A little warning, please! You're hilarious when you're sleep-deprived." 

Mycroft cleared his throat and looked away. "Well. Fond memories." 

Greg laughed. "Nothing's stopping you from returning." 

"Perhaps in the right company." Mycroft looked sideways at Greg. "My brother was quite taken by your tan, I recall." 

Just then, the phone rang. Mycroft's expression hardened into blankness as he quickly unfolded himself and stood up. "Pardon me." He stepped to the desk and picked up the receiver. All Greg heard was "Confirmed" before Mycroft hung up again and slumped. "That's taken care of, and I can go home." 

Greg began tidying up the dishes. "I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes, then." 

"Oh, no, Gregory. I didn't mean..." Mycroft stepped quickly over to the table and stayed Greg's hand with his. "My apologies, again. My work obligations are complete, so now my time is my own. Could you stay? We've barely touched your delicious provisions." 

Greg stilled and looked up at the taller man. "'m happy to, Mycroft. Hope you know, I never want to get in the way." 

"Rather, perhaps, I need to be clearer about my priorities." Mycroft knelt and looked directly into Greg's deep brown eyes. "I am ... rethinking what should be important to me." He suddenly leaned forward and took Greg's lips in a kiss, almost overbalancing as Greg reached his arms around him. 

Greg eagerly returned the kiss, but brought it to a halt before it turned into anything more. "Hold up a bit. You still need more food and rest. C'mon, sit with me and tell me more about the sights of Spain." 

Mycroft pouting was the most adorable thing, but Greg was firm. He arranged Mycroft next to him and fed him bits of their office picnic while Mycroft told him of his travels. It was the best evening either had had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Lav for having faith in this series and suggesting this particular drink. 
> 
> More information on [the Gordon cocktail](https://www.gumbopages.com/food/beverages/gordon.html).


End file.
